Her own happiness at having him all to herself in the room where she nursed him was great indeed; still her love, at once full of youth and good sense, included a maternal element, and she well understood that he hardly amused himself, deprived as he was of his customary pleasures and severed from his friends, few of whom he was willing to receive, for he feared that they might think the story of the dislocated shoulder suspicious.

Of course there were no more _fetes_, no more evenings at the theatre, no more flirtations.

But above everything else Dario missed the Corso, and suffered despairingly at no longer seeing or learning anything by watching the procession of Roman society from four to five each afternoon.

Accordingly, as soon as an intimate called, there were endless questions: Had the visitor seen so and so?
Had such a one reappeared?
How had a certain friend's love affair ended?
Was any new adventure setting the city agog?
And so forth; all the petty frivolities, nine days' wonders, and puerile intrigues in which the young Prince had hitherto expended his manly energy.
After a pause Celia, who was fond of coming to him with innocent gossip, fixed her candid eyes on him--the fathomless eyes of an enigmatical virgin, and resumed: "How long it takes to set a shoulder right!" Had she, child as she was, with love her only business, divined the truth?
Dario in his embarrassment glanced at Benedetta, who still smiled.
However, the little Princess was already darting to another subject: "Ah! you know, Dario, at the Corso yesterday I saw a lady--" Then she stopped short, surprised and embarrassed that these words should have escaped her.

However, in all bravery she resumed like one who had been a friend since childhood, sharing many a little love secret: "Yes, a very pretty person whom you know.